Please Come Home For Christmas
by Headbanger Rockstar
Summary: Gibbs gets what he wants for Christmas-his lover is home. Mentions of violence. Gibbs/Tony slash. Some OOCness. One shot.


**Disclaimer**: Not mine, only the idea.  
><strong>Warning: <strong>Mentions of Violence, and some OOCness.  
><em><strong>Thanks as always to my wonderful friend and beta, Gotgoats. You are an amazing person and I am so blessed to know you! You rock dude! Pbbbbbbbbbt<br>**_**Author's Note:** I hope everyone is having nice holidays, and wherever you are in the world I wish you good times and many blessings on your new year. Hugs!

**Please Come Home For Christmas  
><strong>by Headbanger_Rockstar

"Is he here yet?"

"No not yet. Soon."

"He's been gone for so long! I can hardly wait to see him!"

"I know. Soon."

"Will he be expecting his surprise? We do not want to overdo him."

"Overwhelm. We do not want to overwhelm him."

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

"D-do you think his flight was delayed because of the weather?"

"He'll be here soon."

"What if his plane crashes? What if the weather causes the pilots to lose their visibility and they crash into the side of a mountain? What if he's hurt? What if the plane went down and no one knows? What if—"

A glare from the others quieted the rant.

"I talked to him earlier and he said he was hoping the flight wouldn't be delayed, but for us not to worry if it was."

"Perhaps we should all go to the airport and await his return."

"No. I'll go alone. Soon."

A collection of groans filled the room, all except one. He smiled. His lover was coming home. Soon.

xxx

Standing in the airport, the man watched as travelers and relatives hustled and bustled all around. He was frustrated that he was here on Christmas Eve, in the midst of all the chaos—but only because his lover should have been home two months ago. He'd been delayed by the case, unable to return, and as a result had missed Thanksgiving, decorating the tree, the Christmas parties—everything. If they were lucky they'd make it to midnight mass—if he wasn't too tired when he arrived.

He'd managed to stave everyone off, telling them they would see everyone on Christmas. There were plans for Christmas Dinner to take place at Ducky's house and it would truly be a happy party with everyone finally home. Their whole family would be together for the festive day. Everyone was excited.

He watched as a plane landed. Large jet, private, gliding down the slick runway with grace, being guided oh so carefully by the skilled pilot. The flight had not been delayed, but as he watched the weather worsen while he waited, he wondered if maybe they should have waited. His safety would always be the primary concern. It had troubled him greatly that he'd been gone for so long.

Six months. Had he really been gone six months? It had been late summer when the case arose. Late summer when the director told them what she wanted them to do. Late summer when they had parted ways. It would only be a month, they'd said. One month turned into two. Two turned into four. Four turned into six. And everyday he'd become more concerned, more anxious, more grumpy. He needed to see him. To touch him. To let him know he was safe. To let them both know he was safe.

Really he'd been the only option for the case. They needed someone with a particular look, who could act the part, who could do the job and gather the information. No one had counted on it taking him so long to gather all the evidence needed to stop the unit from trafficking the drugs. He'd needed to establish relationships though, build trust with the boys. It had been a long process, and the director had been sorely mistaken when she thought he could just pop in suddenly, get the information, and then get back out.

Another mistake made by Madam Director, another price paid, and nearly another year lost to them.

The plane stopped and the man ran his fingers through his hair and down over his face. Any moment now. Any moment they'd be together. He'd see that his other half was safe. He was home. He was in one piece. He was so happy he'd be here for Christmas. Wasn't sure he could have stood being alone on this holiday.

The door opened and a couple of NCIS agents stepped out into the terminal off of the plane. They waved but looked uncomfortable—as if they knew something—and he politely waved back and spoke wishes of merry Christmases and happy holidays to them. It would do no good to ask them. They had no reason to tell him anything. A member of the flight staff came next, and she glanced back over her shoulder in the doorway.

"Are you alright," she asked. "You making it?"

He couldn't hear the response, but a cold feeling settled in his belly. Who was she talking to? What had happened? He hadn't been able to get hardly any information from the director about how it had all gone down. He hadn't been told about what his partner had been put through in order to build the trust and establish the relationships. The hazing, the torture, the abuse…no one had told him how much pain his partner had been in for months, and all in the name of a case.

A figure stepped through the door, moving slowly. His arm was in a sling, a bag was slung over his shoulder, and he leaned heavily on a cane. He was wearing a coat with the hood pulled over his head, and his face was turned towards the floor. He wasn't expecting anyone to come for him. He looked so…alone. So defeated. He moved stiffly as though every expansion and contraction of every muscle hurt.

He rushed to his partner's side and the man startled when he found himself so close to someone unexpectedly and he looked up, the hood dropping from his head revealing the military style haircut and the…long…scar…on his face…

Eyes widened in shock on both men…one at having someone to meet him after all this time, the other in shock at the state his partner was in. They'd _hurt_ him. Those sons of bitches had hurt _his_ lover.

"Hey," he said gently to his injured partner.

Pained green eyes filled with relief and he almost stumbled into the silver haired man. "What…what're y'doin' here?" The words were slightly slurred. Gibbs wondered if it was from pain, from drugs, from alcohol, or if this was his undercover character that he was still speaking to.

"Hey you with me," he said softly when Tony's eyes dropped shut suddenly. He raised a hand to Tony's cheek and drew it back surprised when Tony flinched away.

"S-sorry," he mumbled, blinking his eyes open again.

"Come on," Gibbs said gently, taking Tony's bag and putting a hand lightly on his back. "Let's go home."

Tony nodded and together they slowly made their way out of the airport terminal. When they reached the door and stepped out into the cold December day in DC, Tony shivered and stopped, looking all around. He'd spent months on the carrier, surrounded by people and activity, but this…this was new and different, completely overwhelming.

Sensing that is partner was becoming tired and overwhelmed, Gibbs looked at him. "Do you want to walk with me to the car or should I come get you here?"

"How far is it," Tony whispered. He leaned a little heavier on his cane.

"I parked in Section H," Gibbs said, pointing across the parking lot.

Tony sighed. Gibbs steered him gently to a bench and eased him down onto it. He cupped Tony's face in his hands and Tony grabbed Gibbs' wrists and shook his head slightly. Not here. Not here please not here.

Gibbs understood and nodded. "Wait here," he said softly. "I'll get the car. Back in a minute." He took off jogging across the parking lot, still carrying Tony's bag with him. Tony watched as his partner blended into the crowd and then realized he'd been left alone—completely alone here. His fingers twisted together nervously and a moment later he heard the sound of squealing tires and a yellow charger pulled up and stopped in front of him.

He watched as Gibbs got out of the car and a second later a hand hooked gently on his good elbow. "C'mon Tony," he said gently. "Let's get you home."

Home? Really? After all this time, home seemed like a place out of his imagination—somewhere magical and ethereal that he honestly believed he'd never get back to. He looked up at his partner in disbelief and a small smile graced his scarred features.

It didn't take them long to reach the large, two story farm-style house that he'd called home for some time now. Gone was the dingy apartment filled with creaking boards, bugs and busted boilers. He'd moved in with Gibbs, and they'd incorporated their lives together, blended their belongings, blurred the lines until one didn't know where he stopped and the other began when it came to each other.

Gibbs helped him out of the car and for a long moment he stood and stared at the house—the beautiful house that promised security and safety, love and warmth, hope and healing—all the things he'd missed for so long. It was almost too good to be true, to believe that he'd actually made it back here, that he was really home, with Gibbs, and that this whole nightmare was over. It had begun to snow lightly again and when he shivered, Jethro gently prompted him to move inside. "Plenty to see inside too," his lover told him gently. "We'll get ya comfortable and changed and warmed up. We'll scrub the undercover off of ya and get you back to normal in no time at all."

Once they were inside the house, Gibbs steered him to the bathroom and helped him into the shower. He glowered in anger at the scars and cuts and fading bruises marring his lover's body. "I'm calling Ducky," he said. His tone left no room for argument. Tony nodded his agreement. He hurt all over. And he'd missed the man that he adored as a child adored a grandparent. After calling Ducky, Jethro stripped and climbed into the shower with Tony. He soaped and caressed his lover's body, kissing the wounds, washing them clean, washing the op off of him.

Tony groaned with pleasure when Jethro shampooed his hair, strong fingers working into his scalp, relaxing muscles, soothing away the tension. By the time Jethro had washed him from head to toe, Tony was leaned bonelessly against him, head leaned back against Jethro's shoulder, eyes closed, relaxed, at peace. Finally, finally, at peace.

Jethro kissed the side of his neck and reached around him. He caressed Tony's side with one flat palm, rubbing lightly down his partner's body, sensitive fingers feeling the bumps and nubs of scarred skin pinches, old bullet wounds, wounds from his childhood that were significantly older. He rubbed his hand, his flat palm, against Tony's half hard penis and smiled when it grew beneath his fingers. As exhausted as Tony was, he smiled and thrust slightly into the touch of his partner, smiling and groaning with pleasure when the long fingers wrapped around him and pulled slowly towards his tip, deliciously drawing the sensation out of him, from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair…all he felt was pleasure.

Jethro worked him gently, slowly. He wondered if he should be doing this now, if Tony was in any shape for it, but he decided that they both needed the physical contact. They needed to reconnect. He rubbed one hand up and down Tony's side, occasionally brushing against a brown nipple while kissing and sucking softly on the uninjured shoulder. He'd ask him later what had happened to put his arm in a sling…there was bruising, discoloration, swelling…it looked like his shoulder had possibly been dislocated. Now was not the time to talk though, now was not the time to rely on poorly chosen words, broken off syllables, or grunts to communicate. Jethro used his hands, his lips and his body to tell his partner how much he loved him, how glad he was that he was safe, how much he missed him. And he had missed him. Missed this. So damn much it hurt.

Their movements grew increasingly frantic as Tony neared his completion, hips thrusting wildly, groaning and whimpering, begging for release, begging for him to never stop, to never leave, to never make him leave…Tony came with a shout and Jethro kissed his jaw, then reached up with one hand and turned Tony's face to kiss him hard and open mouthed as he pulled the rest of the orgasm right out of him. Tony finally relaxed and turned, kissing Jethro clumsily, wrapping his good arm around Jethro's neck, breathing in his lover's scent and he smiled. Jethro smelled like home.

Jethro shut off the water and wrapped them both in towels. He carefully guided Tony back to the bedroom, letting his lover lean on him instead of the cane. He wondered if it was the old knee injury flaring up or if it was something else. Gibbs would have Ducky check him out thoroughly. He didn't think Tony needed a hospital, but he definitely needed tending to, and he needed a good night's sleep. Tomorrow would be better.

He helped Tony slip into some boxers and a robe. He knew Ducky would need to be able to get to his skin and it seemed cruel to make Tony get dressed only to undress him again as soon as Ducky arrived. Jethro pulled back the covers and Tony dropped into bed with a tired sigh. Jethro crawled up on his side of the bed and wrapped an arm around Tony's middle.

"Got you now," Gibbs whispered. "You're home and you're mine and you're safe. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Tony whispered. His entire body trembled and Gibbs knew that he was coming down from the op. Tony turned over with some difficulty and buried his head in Gibbs' shoulder, not caring that the added pressure on his shoulder was excruciating. He needed this closeness. Needed this. "Didn't think I'd ever get back here…didn't think I'd make it out alive," he whispered.

"You did though. You were strong and brave and you made it home. You're here. And it's Christmas Eve. We're together now, and I'm not letting the Director take you away from me again. It's enough. She can use someone else if she needs something."

Tony nodded against Jethro's shoulder and shivered. Gibbs pulled the covers up over Tony's shoulder, then realized which side Tony was lying on. "Hey," he said. "Roll over…gonna hurt if you lay on that shoulder too long."

"I wanna be close to you," Tony whispered. "Need you, need this."

"Hang on," Gibbs said. He stood up and walked around the bed. "Scoot over," he instructed. Tony scooted over where Jethro had been lying and he crawled in where Tony was. "There now, you can lay on your good shoulder," Jethro murmured as Tony moved in close again. He pulled the covers up over Tony's shoulder and rubbed his hand up and down his arm gently. He wasn't at all surprised that Tony fell asleep moments later.

xxx

It took Ducky some time to get to Jethro's house…traffic had been horrendous that night, all the travelers hurrying to their destinations, people getting off work, finishing up shopping, getting in the way of an old man trying to get to the boy he loved as a grandson. After nearly twice the time it would usually take for him to reach Jethro's house, Ducky pulled into the driveway and let out a quiet sigh. He didn't see any lights on downstairs, none on in the basement, but saw one on upstairs.

Ducky quietly approached the house and opened the front door, unsurprised to find it unlocked. He assumed Jethro would likely lock it once Ducky left later, but he'd been expecting his friend, and had left his house open to him. Closing the door behind him softly, but not trying to hide the fact that he had arrived, Ducky began to ascend the stairs.

In the bedroom Ducky paused in the doorway and took in the scene in front of him. The clock radio was playing softly and Jethro was sitting up in bed, fully clothed, book in hand. Tony was curled around him like a cat, arm slung over Jethro's waist, head buried against his thighs. One of Jethro's hands was moving between Tony's hair and his shoulders, rubbing lightly, ruffling his hair, physically assuring him that he was home and safe. Ducky smiled at the quiet scene, nodding his head in satisfaction when he heard the song on the radio.

_Bells will be ringing this sad, sad New Years  
>Oh what a Christmas to have the blues<br>My baby's gone I have no friends  
>To wish me greetings once again<br>Cries will be singing Silent Night  
>Christmas carols by candlelight<br>Please come home for Christmas  
>Please come home for Christmas<br>If not for Christmas by New Years night  
><em>

"Jethro," Ducky said softly. Jethro looked up and smiled sadly at his friend.

"Hey Duck," he said quietly. "He's asleep." He shook his head sadly. "I can't believe what _she_ did to him." There was a growl in his voice, a quiet threat, the anger was rumbling just below the surface.

Ducky set his medical bag down on the foot of the bed and stood there for a moment watching his friends. He saw the sling on the bedside table and the cane leaning next to the bed. "Jethro? What happened to him?"

"We need to figure that out. He looks like he's been through hell, Ducky. It's bad."

Ducky nodded. "We can do that." He stepped closer to Tony's sleeping form. "Anthony? My dear boy, Tony can you hear me?"

Tony stirred and opened his eyes slowly, grimacing when he moved. "Ducky?" Tony's voice was barely a whisper.

"My dear boy, can I look you over and make sure you are alright?"

Tony nodded, but didn't move. Jethro shifted him a bit. Ducky pulled out his stethoscope. "Let me have a quick listen," he instructed, listening carefully to Tony's lungs. "Did you injure your ribs," he asked gently. Tony nodded.

The examination continued, Ducky confirming that Tony had dislocated his shoulder, and while Jethro thought he had flared up his old knee injury, Tony and Ducky confirmed that it was actually much more severe than that.

"He appears to have pulled his ACL," Ducky said. "He needs to stay off his leg—no weight on it at all—for at least two weeks. I will check him then and if it is not improved I will recommend an orthopedic specialist for him. I will go to the local pharmacy and get him some crutches."

"I have some," Tony said softly. "In the storage room in the basement."

"I'll get 'em for ya here in a minute Tony," Jethro said. "I know where you put them."

"Now if you would, roll over Tony," Ducky said. Tony rolled over and Ducky grimaced when he saw the blotchy bruises coating Tony's chest and stomach. What really caused him to take pause was the healing scar on his face.

"Wasn't so great when I got made," Tony said quietly.

Ducky nodded sympathetically. "The laceration on your face…what did they use?"

Tony swallowed hard. "Switch," he said softly.

"Did they do this when you were made?"

Tony shook his head. "No they did it when…when they decided they trusted me…they wanted me to prove my loyalty." His voice was quiet. "Guess that's a scar I'm stuck with," he said. "No way to fix it." Indeed, the scar ran from Tony's hairline down across his eyebrow, across his eyelid, and across his cheekbone. It was jagged and unstitched…it was a horrendous looking scar.

"I believe we can get you in touch with someone who could repair that a bit," Ducky said gently. "Now. One to ten. What is your pain level?"

Tony thought about it. "Six or a seven," he said.

Ducky nodded. "Tonight take some Tylenol. It will help your muscles relax and ease your pain enough to get some much needed rest."

Tony nodded and then pushed himself up on his good elbow with a wince. "Jethro? Christmas Eve?"

Gibbs pushed him back down gently. "Yeah Tony…"

Tony yawned as Ducky handed him the pills and a glass of water. Church at midnight on Christmas Eve was a tradition they both enjoyed.

"We gonna go?"

Jethro glanced at Ducky who inconspicuously shook his head. "If you're awake and feeling up to it we'll talk about it," he said, letting his lover down gently. He'd seen the bottle that Ducky had shaken the Tylenol out of. Prescription strength…with codeine…Tony wouldn't be awake at midnight.

"If you're asleep and want to, maybe in the morning we can catch a service before we head over to Ducky's," Jethro said. Tomorrow was Sunday and Christmas.

Tony laid back again after he swallowed the pills and the water. He nodded. "Sounds good to me," he said softly. "Feel like…I need to go, y'know? I'm just happy to be alive," he whispered.

Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Tony's chest. "So are we," he said softly. "All of us. We were so…when we heard that you…" he shook his head, unable to pull the words out. "Are you hungry," he finally said, grasping for normalcy.

Tony nodded. "Starving," he said.

"How long has it been since you have eaten Anthony?" Ducky asked.

Tony thought for a minute. "Think I…ate about…three days ago," he murmured faintly.

"My dear boy your blood sugar must be dreadfully low. Jethro will you bring him some juice as well?"

Gibbs nodded. "Duck will you stay with him? I'll go make him something to eat."

Ducky nodded and Gibbs dropped a kiss on Tony's forehead. "Back in a minute," he said.

Gibbs hurried down to the kitchen, flipping on the light and going straight for the freezer. He pulled out a pack of frozen chicken nuggets (he never claimed to be a gourmet cook) and turned on the oven. While the oven was preheating he opened a box of macaroni and cheese and began making it as well.

While the food was cooking, Gibbs ran upstairs to the spare bedroom and gathered extra pillows. He walked quietly into their room and smiled sadly when he saw Tony was asleep. Ducky walked over to him and took the pillows. "I'm going to let him sleep until the food is ready," Ducky said softly.

Gibbs nodded. "Shouldn't be too long," he said. "We'll get him changed too."

It wasn't long before the food was ready and Gibbs carried the plate up to his bedroom. He set the plate on the dresser and walked over to the bed. He gently woke Tony and helped him sit up. Ducky placed the pillows behind him while Gibbs handed him the plate. Tony ate slowly, forcing himself not to eat fast. He was starving, but with three broken ribs, he didn't want to do anything to make himself throw up. He felt so tired though, so sleepy and exhausted, that he wasn't sure he'd have been able to eat fast even if he'd wanted to.

"What'd…give me?"

Gibbs smirked and offered Tony some juice. Ducky smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I gave you some prescription strength Tylenol with codeine, Dear Boy," he said. "It will take away your pain and help you rest."

Tony finished eating and yawned deeply before finishing the glass of orange juice Jethro had brought him.

"Let's get you into some warm clothes," Gibbs suggested, digging through a drawer in the dresser. He pulled out a pair of flannel pants and a bulky sweatshirt. With Ducky and Gibbs helping, Tony quickly changed his clothes and then laid back down in the bed. He was breathing hard from the exertion, and wincing with pain. Ducky helped him slip the sling back on to keep his wounded shoulder in place and Jethro tucked a pillow under his arm.

As he stood back up, Tony reached out with a slow, clumsy hand and grabbed Jethro's. "Stay?" he whispered.

"Babe you don't even have to ask," Gibbs said, crawling up on the bed beside Tony.

He looked at Ducky who nodded. "I will let myself out Jethro and we will see you and Anthony tomorrow for Christmas dinner."

"We'll be there, unless he's feeling worse," Gibbs said.

"We'll…be there," Tony said. His eyes were nearly shut and he was almost asleep. He still clung tightly to Jethro's hand.

Ducky nodded again and picked up his bag. "Goodnight my dear boys. Rest well and do not hesitate to call if you need anything."

"Thanks Duck," Gibbs said, throwing up a hand in a casual wave. He glanced at Tony who had drifted off to sleep. He smiled sadly at his friend and watched the older man make his way down the hall. A few moments after Ducky disappeared Gibbs heard the front door shut. He knew Ducky well enough to know that he would have locked them in.

Gibbs propped his head up on one hand and watched his lover sleep. "I am so glad you're safe," he murmured, fingering Tony's short hair lightly. Tony snuffled lightly in his sleep and turned his head towards Gibbs.

Gibbs leaned over and kissed Tony very softly. He half smiled when Tony didn't respond.

"I love you Tony," he whispered. "Merry Christmas."

In the dimly lit room, the radio announcer signed off as Jethro drifted off to the first peaceful sleep he'd had in months.

_This is WSKT signing off. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night._

**The End**


End file.
